


Period or Comma?

by PolynomialPandemic



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: 4+1?, 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Brownies, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Made a Different Call, Deaf Clint Barton, Exasperation, Feels, Human Disaster Clint Barton, Hurt Clint Barton, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Missions, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Past Mind Control, Protective Natasha Romanov, SHIELD, SHIELD agents - Freeform, Shight Pheels, The Avengers (2012) Compliant, The massive clusterfuck that is Clint BArton, can be Clintasha if you want, kind of, mid-avengers movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 12:10:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15841038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolynomialPandemic/pseuds/PolynomialPandemic
Summary: It's one of the many things new agents learn not to question about the relationship between Hawkeye and Black Widow.It's one of the many ways Nat keeps that idiot agent alive.And it's one of the phrases that means much more, in the end, than a shared joke.Or, Four times it was actually a comma, and one time it wasn't.*too lazy for five. sue me, it's a school night





	Period or Comma?

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my brain for exuding a whole fic instead of half of one chapter. HAIL!
> 
> Many thanks to my friends, Tumblr, Ninjafan1, and soft beds after a day of mud and paint one can't be bothered to fully clean off (my school is fun)
> 
> TW:Fighting with guns/rocket launchers, Non-graphic person trapped under something, sarcasm, mind control angst

There wasn’t a lot that could make Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow herself, feel sentimental. Most people thought she had no feelings at all.

 

Clint Barton was the exception to both of those things, as he was the exception to so many rules in her life.

<><><>

“Barton? Barton, come in. Right now. This is not a fucking joke, Clint.”

 

There was static on the coms. Still nothing. “Hawkeye?” _Please, tell me you didn’t lose your coms again._ Bringing up the fact that his coms were also his hearing aids, and that if they had been, he was wandering around a Hydra base without his ears, or knowledge of backup…

 

“If you don’t come in right now, I’m going to go around Headquarters with SHIELD-level adhesive and glue the vents shut!”

 

The static returned, and crackled in and out before she heard faint (very, very faint) noise on the other end. “Clint?” She essayed hopefully.

 

“...’Tasha?”

 

“Clint Barton, you absolute idiot, where are you? This was _extraction,_ that means you’re in and out, so why the fuck are you still down here?” She paused for a reply.

 

“Can’t leave.”

 

All of a sudden she felt cold fear creeping up. “Why not? Where are you?”

 

“Hangar, north side.” She exhaled in relief, and turned towards the area. “But I’m kinda… Well, they had some sorta sonic cannon thing, and I was running under a jet, and-” he paused for a second. _Catching his breath?_ His breathing sounded erratic. This was _so_ not good. “- It fell on me. ‘M trying to get out Tasha, I swear, but it’s so damn _heavy_ -”

 

“Just hang on. I’m almost there.” She sent out an alert to the medical team in the Quinjet. “Hawkeye? Are you still there?”

 

Another, longer pause.

 

“ _Clint?_ ”

 

Faintly, she heard, “I’m not dead.”

 

“Period or comma?”

Another pause, and she was bursting into the hangar, following the gouged tracks of the cannon on the walls, to the plane, and there he was- half of his body buried under the hunk of metal sheared off the wing of the jet. She slid onto her knees, cancelling her momentum and coming to a stop next to her friend. “Clint? Are you with me?”

 

His eyes closed. He coughed. “Might be a comma…”

 

“Goddamnit!”

 

<><><>

“Based on the conditional success of the last mission, it might be advisable to…” The SHIELD agent droned on, with, infuriatingly, acknowledgement from the rest of the room. _Fucking Hell._ They had been in here since 0600, did he really need re-assessment for ‘recklessness’ that lasted five fucking hours? Not to mention the debrief. Which had been… not fun. To say the least. Ontop of sleep deprivation left over from the mission (his head still felt uncomfortably fuzzy) and the non-lethal but irritating as shit bruised/cracked ribs that throbbed more and more as the hours went on. _Aw, pain meds, no..._

 _Can you all just shut up already? Wasn’t my fault they blew the secret ammo dump. Assholes were just shooting at random, how was I supposed to stop the bullet? With my own body?_ That’d show them “reckless behavior”.

 

He glanced over at Tasha, cool as ever, and able to make it look like this was exactly where she wanted to be, in a debriefing room with an assessment aimed at her partner, being completely ignored for hours. _Spies, I’m telling you…_ Clint rolled his head in the other direction, from where his chin rested on his arms, and reflected on the fact that his reputation within SHIELD allowed him to get away with such behavior (because they knew not to expect any better), and that the whole briefing was utterly and completely pointless.

 

“...which would work within the given time frame. Agent Barton, any thoughts?”

 

_This is stupid, he’s stupid, you’re stupid, and I’m out._

 

He lifted his head slightly. “Next time, I’m bringing brownies to the boring, long-ass debrief.”

 

The debrief agent and Hill shared a glance.

“Are you really?” Hill queried.

 

“Yup.”

 

“I will hold you to that, Agent Barton.”

 

“Fine by me. Now, can we get this over with? Sometime before I’m older than SHIELD?”

 

Clint laid his head back down on his arms and stopped even pretending to pay attention, ignoring the identical glares of Hill and the other Agent.

  
  


After the meeting, Natasha smoothly fell into step next to him as they walked to their quarters.

 

“Are you sure you’ll bring brownies? I’ve never seen you near an oven before.”

 

Clint scowled. “Stores exist, Tasha. And I could too cook. If I had to.”

 

“At least you’d be better than Sitwell.”

 

“You too? Hey, I said I’m bringing brownies, and I will be!”

 

“Period or comma?” She said jokingly.

 

Not deigning a reply, he continued in silence for a second while he contemplated the group’s reactions. Hill had never lost a bet (he was pretty sure) ever in her entire time at SHIELD. Or in her entire life. _Why would I be unable to bring…_

 

“Shit!” he stopped dead just before rounding the corner. Tasha, in perfect time, stopped with him, and looked over expectantly.

 

“Have you figured it out?”

 

“Aw, fuck. Brownies, no…”

 

She smirked. “Period or comma, Dumbass?”

 

“Ugh, fine. Comma. Damnit.” They continued down the hallway while they talked. “But it wasn’t my fault that I’ll be in Portugal for the recon!”

 

“You’re a spy. You should be able to remember these things.”

 

“Nat…”

 

“Don’t you dare. Don’t even ask.”

 

“Nat, please? I _know_ you’ll be back in time, your meetings are my meetings, and I’m only away because of the annual re-check, and-”

 

Natasha held her hand up in between herself and the stream of words. “Fine. But you owe me one.”

  
  


To this day, Debrief/Analysis Agent Neufeldt still brags about being one of two people who have eaten brownies baked by the Black Widow herself.

<><><>

  


“For the last time, Tasha, I’ve got it. I don’t need backup!”

 

Natasha jumped into a roll, leapt to her feet, and vaulted the gap between the next two buildings. The other member of Strike Team Delta could be seen, diagonally to the left, and eight buildings ahead of her, running as flat-out as he could while using the available cover to his advantage. She dove and slammed her back into an AC unit on the top of the next building, just in time for several bullets to go flying past. Almost faster than her growing exasperation.

 

“Doesn’t sound like it to me.”  More bullets. “Goddamnit Clint, what did you get yourself into this time?”

 

“I thought it was only a 6!”

 

“Why would they send _us_ on a level six?”

 

Silence for a second. Then, “Shit.”

 

“Damn right.” She rose to her feet, and pelted across the next roof and a half, before whoever was shooting them had time to adjust. She could see him, crouched under the lip of a rooftop, arrow nocked to his bow, now only seven buildings away from her. “So, now do you want backup?”

 

“Nah. I’ve still got it, don’t worry Tasha.”

 

She watched him secure the special charge to the arrowhead, ready himself, and then flip up and over the edge of the roof, firing before he landed in a roll behind the decorative wall of the next building. Using him as a distraction to make her move, she closed the distance, only four roofs between the Black Widow and her idiot partner now.

 

The charge detonated in the distance, setting off a strangled alarm through the aggressively quiet streets around the action.

The sound of firing intensifies. There must be at least nine newcomers to the fight.

Glancing over, she noticed another one with some sort of launcher, almost in time to warn her partner, but her message only just got past “Clint, on your eight-” before a blast from the heavy ordnance cannon took out a bite of the rooftop. Sections of shingle slid down.

 

Hawkeye took up a position mimicking hers, dazed slightly from the blast he’d rolled to avoid.

 

“Still a period?”

 

“Comma.” He gasped, holding his chest. “Comma. Definitely... “

 

“Charge detonated, wanna get out of here?”

 

His usual smile slid back on. “I thought you’d never ask.

 

<><><>

 

“I’m just glad you’re back. You and-” _and Coulson, but she wasn’t even going to think about that situation right now… “_ You’re the only person I trust. The one I trust the most. You know me. As I am, not as I appear.” Her smile at the last several words faded back into her ‘mission’ face.  “And you’re also about the only person who could actually have a chance of taking on SHIELD and winning. I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

 

He didn’t actually smile, but she could hear the hints of amusement in his tone. “Cognitive recalibration, huh?”

 

“You should already know I’ll always be the first to smack some sense into your head when you get a stupid idea.”

 

“Hah.”

 

Natasha stepped closer to the bed. “Are you alright? Ready to go shoot that bastard full of holes?” She paused. “Are you… alright? Really alright, Clint?”

 

“No. No fucking way I don’t even know how to begin to deal with this, I mean, he was in my _head_ , and no matter what you say, I’m still responsible, those were my hands, my _arrows_ -”

 

She sat down on the bunk beside him. “You don’t need to come with us. You know that, right? If you’re not ready.”

 

He looked over at her frustratedly. “I’m not saying that- damnit, Tasha, I’m not alright, but that doesn’t mean I can’t shove an arrow up his ass, I’m just saying that-” He took a breath, and the familiar intensity came back to his form. She knew each one of his faces, and this was the most dangerous.

 

“That this isn’t over.”

 

A faint smile appeared on her face. “Period or comma, Barton?”

 

“Definitely period.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Ooh, I so wanted to say 'before I'm older than Cap, and then remembered this is pre-avengers. Sigh.  
> Send me prompts plz!! Leave them in the comments!!!
> 
> Love y'all!!!!! *Mwah* *sends froot loops and hugs*
> 
> (If you caught the lines from Sharp Zero and Sanders Sides, you get a cookie! (*oops... looks like Cap ate them all... shame, really...*)


End file.
